Recovery
by mikotyzini
Summary: With Weiss back in Atlas, Ruby off on some quest, and Blake god knows where, is Yang strong enough to pull herself out of the misery she's fallen into? [Oneshot]
**Sooo...I watched Volume 3...**

 ** _Ugh._**

 **Since I can't stand waiting months in this state, I've written a little something that cheers me up! I choose to believe that this is what happens, until RoosterTeeth proves otherwise :)**

 **I will forewarn that this is a lot less happy than my other stuff so...reader beware! Also, Volume 3 spoilers, kinda. I suppose that everyone has already seen that by now, but just in case.**

 **Thank you for reading!**

* * *

The snowflakes gently falling outside her bedroom window lent an air of tranquility to the day - giving her something to focus on when her eyes inevitably drifted to the barren trees standing guard outside.

It had been snowing on and off for what seemed like months now. Day in and day out...more snow. But, just when it seemed that the world had been completely smothered in white, the sun would peek out just long enough to melt the snow caps away.

And then the snow would return - an endless cycle that was comforting in its predictability.

The snow was relaxing in its own unique way - watching the little fluffs of white drift lazily to the ground, accumulating on every available surface.

It was pleasant though - at least, better than anything else she might have planned for the day.

It helped mellow her out, made her a little sleepy, and...when she saw a particularly beautiful snowflake land on the window...it reminded her of Weiss.

Curling her fingers into a tight ball beside her, she clenched her jaw and ground her molars back and forth while trying to push the thought out of her head.

She didn't like to think about Weiss.

She didn't like to think about anything related to her former team...or her former life.

A flash of movement caught her attention just then - her eyes snapping towards the flicker in order to drag her thoughts away from the black abyss that was opening up within her mind.

A crow (Or was it a raven? She could never tell the difference…) had just landed on one of the branches outside her bedroom window - close enough that she could see the animal clearly, but far enough away that it was still greatly sheltered within the trees. Hopping sideways, the dark bird crept a few inches along the tree limb towards her, head turning this way and that as sharp, intelligent eyes darted all around.

This time of year they didn't get many visitors to the backyard, besides a squirrel or two and these black birds.

They always seemed to arrive alone - a solitary life she'd grown accustomed to in recent times - but when they were there, outside the window, she felt a little less alone.

The animals gave her something to think about, allowing her to wonder what their days were like - what their lives were like - how it might feel to fly like a bird...above the trees, in the clouds…

They lived in the same world - she and this bird - but their realities couldn't be anymore different.

The bird was free, alive, untethered to the rapidly crumbling society around them...this single crow would outlive them all.

At the first sign of trouble, the creature would take to the sky and fly away - finding a safe place to land somewhere far, far from here. The bird could just pick up and leave...it had no baggage, no family or friends to leave behind...

The sound of a twig snapping crashed through her train of thought just then, instantly sending the bird skyward with a loud 'caw!' of protest.

Alarmed as to what had caused the sudden departure, she hastily scanned the window in search of potential enemies before finally identifying the source of the noise...and letting out the breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding in the process.

Ever since Beacon…

Well, she'd been a little jumpier as of late...

But there was nothing to worry about - certainly nothing to warrant her rapidly pounding heart. It was only her dad stomping along outdoors in his giant snow boots, shovel grasped firmly in one strong, gloved hand.

"Hey, kiddo!" he shouted through the window to her, waving his free hand in the air while sending her a big smile. "Wanna help your old man out with some snow?"

Forcing a smile onto her lips, the movement feeling foreign and stiff, she casually waved him away from her.

"All you, Dad - hard work builds character!" she called back, repeating the same words of wisdom the man had used countless times in order to get her and Ruby to do their chores.

With an exaggerated groan, he gave her another smile - this one tinged with sadness he probably thought she couldn't see - before trudging back towards the front of the house. A fresh set of footsteps was left in his wake - the tracks replacing the steps that had just been covered up by the new snowfall.

Once he was gone, calm returned to her window into the greater world. Her gaze returned to the falling snow, watching intently as it settled on every surface within sight.

Big flakes fluttering like fallen leaves during autumn...small flakes swirling quickly - blown about by any tiny dusting of wind...giant amalgamations of flakes that dropped like misshapen rocks directly to the ground...all combined, it was becoming a regular winter wonderland outside.

Honestly, before this winter she'd never taken the time to appreciate a good snowstorm.

Sure, she loved when she was little and school would be canceled or when they'd have snowball fights and build snowmen...but she'd always been too busy or too young to stop and appreciate the beauty that could be found in a single, perfectly sculpted snowflake.

The intricate designs made her think about how hard it must be to create something…

Something so…

The complex, yet delicate flakes of snow made her think of Weiss, and how similar the girl was with the symbol, and how much she...

How much she missed Weiss.

Forcing the air from her lungs in one loud sigh, she immediately wished she'd never let that thought flit through her mind.

The heiress was spoiled, pretentious, _definitely_ a know-it-all...and a showoff, not to mention kind of a brat and tattletale, but...Weiss was also extremely smart, loyal, _sometimes_ a little funny, and kind.

Internally groaning, she wondered how the world had ended up like this - where she was actually missing _Weiss Schnee_ , of all people.

But, contrary to what she'd thought at first introduction, Weiss had actually turned out to be a great teammate and a good friend, which was more than she could say about -

Clenching her jaw shut once again, she squeezed her eyes shut in a hopeless effort to prevent the mental image from appearing...but appear it did, like a curse - a never ending torment meant to remind her that physical pain was nothing compared to the emotional anguish she was living in.

But even worse than the vision of raven-colored locks and piercing amber eyes was the onslaught of memories...memories from when they'd been friends, teammates, partners, and, above all...happy.

Resigned to the tortuous trip down memory lane she was now all but forced to take, she could feel resentment and pain beginning to ignite within her chest for what must be the thousandth time.

They were partners. Not just classmates, or acquaintances, or even just friends. They were...they had been...partners.

And it wasn't all in her head that they'd been great together. Even Blake herself had said the words, more than once actually, but the first time she still vividly remembered.

" _Yang, I'm...really grateful to have you as my partner."_

" _Aww -"_

" _Wait - wait...before you say anything, I just want to say that I'm so happy that I can be...me. Faunus traits and all. I know it might not make much sense to you, but after hiding who I was for so long, it's...nice...to be myself around you."_

Yeah, if 'being herself' meant leaving her partner behind when she was needed most, then Blake was most definitely being herself.

Hearing a sniffle escape her, she reached up to wipe the back of her hand across her nose, only to slam her remaining fist into the covers in a sudden surge of resentment and self-pity.

Of course Blake had abandoned her.

Of course Blake had run away as soon as the opportunity had presented itself - not even wasting time to say goodbye. Not even waiting to see if she would be ok.

Of course Blake hadn't wanted to stay with her, hadn't wanted to help in her recovery...

She was broken...a cripple. A helpless, shell of a fighter who would _need_ more protection than she'd be able to give from now on.

She probably couldn't even take down a boarbatusk in this sorry state.

So maybe she shouldn't be blaming Blake for leaving. If anything, the girl had probably done her a big favor - saving her from making a fool of herself thinking she could ever fight again, or that she had any hope of becoming a huntress now.

But they were supposed to be _partners_ , through thick and thin. Through triumph and...loss...

First her mom, deciding that she wasn't worthy enough to be saved more than once, then her partner...then Weiss flitting back to Atlas, and Ruby setting off on another journey, without her…

None of those desertions felt nearly as painful as Blake's though - not even close.

Part of her demanded an explanation - needed a concrete reason for the decision Blake had made.

But the other part of her...the part that kept her rooted to this bed for a great portion of the day...really didn't care anymore. The decision had already been made, the verdict already delivered.

The end result, the pain she currently existed within, was her new reality.

And if sitting here all day, largely motionless, helped numb that pain - that void within her heart - then she would do it. It was better than trying to move forward...or trying to move at all...only to be reminded of what had been taken away from her.

She'd just thought...she'd naively thought that she'd broken down Blake's invisible walls - that she'd made it through to a place where attachment would overrule instinct. That if Blake were to run, it would be _to_ her, not away.

Clearly, she'd been wrong.

Shows just how well she actually knew her 'partner.'

Oh well...at least now she knew the truth. The only person who knew Blake was Blake, and nothing would ever change that.

Her partner had even told her as much once before - a foreshadowing she should have taken far more seriously at the time -

" _I'm not like you or Ruby. I can't charge forward when I'm scared...when I know I'm in danger. When I'm scared, I run."_

Scowling at the recollection, she felt her fingernails digging into the palm of her good...of her remaining...hand.

What kind of nonsense was that anyway?

In a fight, everyone has the option to stand and fight or run like a coward.

Everyone has to make that decision - self-preservation or the greater good? Beacon was supposed to be training them that the greater good _always_ came first.

And with how often Blake spoke about making a difference and saving lives...well, one wouldn't expect her to be putting self-preservation first.

" _I can't charge forward when I'm scared...when I know I'm in danger. When I'm scared, I run."_

The longer she thought about Blake's words, the more her ire turned to dust and her anger faded away - replaced by the growing moisture in her eyes as her brain finally latched onto something she'd refused to acknowledge prior to this moment.

The main battle was over - at least, for now. What fights there were left, the professional huntsmen and huntresses had returned to take charge of. As mere trainees, there wasn't really much to be scared of at the moment, from an imminent war perspective anyway.

 _When I'm scared, I run._

...unless what Blake was scared of had nothing to do with self-preservation. And more to do with...

 _When I'm scared…_

...with her...

 _I'm scared._

Tears flowing freely now, she slammed her fist into the bed once more.

"Well I'm scared too!" she yelled towards the ceiling, as if Blake were somewhere up there looking down at her. "I'm scared too and you left me!"

Watching the ceiling begin to swim as her eyes filled with unshed tears, she closed her eyes and dropped her head - this time remembering the correct arm to use in order to wipe away her tears.

"I'm scared too…"

The whisper, accompanied by her soft sobs of agony, felt entirely too loud in the normally quiet room, but there was no way she could stop now that she'd begun.

Unraveling...that's what she was doing. Losing every bit of everything that had made her who she had been. Her identity was gone - taken from her in the blink of an eye, in a flash of red and black.

She'd been one of the best brawlers in the school, accompanied by a reserved partner who'd somehow opened up to her, and teammates who'd had her back through anything and everything.

And now?

Now all of those things were gone. Everything she'd been, everything she'd had...the very essence of who she'd considered herself to be…

Her entire life, she'd wanted to become a huntress - she'd wanted to become more like her mom.

But she didn't know who she was anymore. She didn't know what she was meant to be.

A person without an identity wasn't a person at all...

Well, whatever. It didn't matter anymore. It didn't matter one bit.

Just like it didn't matter to her that Blake was scared - scared of something more than a fight. Scared enough to run away. Scared enough to choose to be all alone as the world fell apart...no family, no friends to lean on for support...

...

 _Why_ did it matter so much to her that Blake was scared? They were _all_ scared. That's why Weiss had let her father take her back to Atlas without a fight. That's why she sat in this bed. That's why her father hardly left the house. That's why Ruby…

Honestly, Ruby was probably the only one who wasn't scared. Buried deep underneath that innocent exterior was a source of strength that Yang had admittedly borrowed from many times when they were growing up. Ruby could see danger and react without hesitation, standing up for what was good and right. That's what would make Ruby such a great huntress...

They were all scared, so that didn't excuse Blake for running away. Blake should be out there trying to make things right, searching for the people who were responsible for this horrible mess. Or, at the very least, be here with her, helping in her recovery.

Blake shouldn't be running, she should be fighting back.

They should all be fighting back. For Pyrrha. And Penny! And all of the other lives that had been taken too soon. The people responsible for the destruction at Beacon should be dealt with, quickly and harshly. And the Grimm pushed back into the forests - back to the brink of extinction.

The small fire that had suddenly sparked in her chest at the thought of battle died down nearly as soon as it appeared, smothered by the lack of oxygen she was willing to provide it.

She couldn't fight back. She was nothing more than a ghost of her former self.

That's why she sat here, where it was safe...not wanting to risk straying too far from the security of her home.

It was safe in her room, sitting on her bed. It was safe with her dad always nearby, stomping around the house doing chores. Even this section of Vale was safe, at least for now. It was safe -

 _I'm scared_.

"I don't care!" she yelled, clapping her hand over one ear in an attempt to block out the very real sounding voice that had just played in her head.

If Blake was scared, she should have come here. They would have been safe here...would have been safe together.

But Blake had decided to run away, so Yang didn't care if she was scared.

She didn't care.

She didn't care.

 _She didn't care_.

As all these thoughts, which she'd kept at bay for so long, crashed over her in waves and waves of renewed anguish, she struggled to regain the feeling that had been holding her together all this time - the anger, the malice, the resentment and pity…

But the knot that had held her mind and heart in a vice grip for the past few months had suddenly grown soft. The more she tried to grasp onto it for sanity, the more it crumbled, weakened by the promises she'd made long ago - by the words she'd spoken when she'd been a different person entirely.

Like trying to hold a fistful of sand, the more she struggled to recapture the stasis she'd been living in, the more it broke apart in her hand...and eventually faded to the background, washed away by her tears.

Her sadness remained, but the storm she'd just weathered had left something else behind - a feeling she hadn't felt in quite some time…

Resolve.

Because as much as she tried to convince herself that she didn't care, she...did.

She cared that Blake was out there somewhere, scared and alone.

She cared that her partner, her teammate - the girl she'd grown to love in more ways than one - was weathering this dangerous new world without any company, without a shoulder to cry on or a hand to help her up.

She cared that sitting here was breaking a promise she'd made some time ago.

Finally setting her jaw, she swung her legs over the side of the bed and set them on the cold floor below - making sure to plant her feet firmly before even attempting to stand up. With her left hand, she shoved herself up to her feet, once again immediately despising the permanent feeling of imbalance she'd been saddled with.

But, unlike the many, many prior days when that feeling alone had been enough to send her back into bed, today she took a step forward - took a step away from the safety it had been providing her.

Grabbing a stack of papers from the nightstand and tucking them under her arm, she made her way carefully to her bedroom door. Once there, hand resting on the doorknob, she paused and took a deep breath.

Those actions, small as they may seem, had been enough to send shivers into her resolve, quickly tempering her determination.

This was too hard. She couldn't do it. She wasn't strong enough, not by herself. She couldn't -

 _I'm scared_.

The doorknob turned easily within her grasp - a tiny, miniscule first step on what was going to be a very long journey ahead - but she would take it one step at a time.

She could take it one step at a time.

Counting the number of steps to the kitchen (twenty-seven), she found her dad had already come inside from shoveling and was sitting at the table with a steaming cup of cocoa held between two hands. His nose and cheeks were still rosy red from the cold, giving his face a flush that looked very much like Ruby's in the cold.

"Dad?"

The sound of her voice made him look up in shock.

"Yang! Sweetie, what are you doing up?"

"Can we afford one of these?" she asked in lieu of answering his question, dropping the stack of papers in front of him and placing one good finger on the picture right on top.

His eyes opened even wider at the question, glancing quickly from her to the picture and back again.

"Well, I think...but -"

"I'd like this one, please," she replied, pointing again to the picture before turning around and heading out of the kitchen without another word - unsure that she had the mental strength to vocalize any further thoughts on that subject.

When she'd been able to summon small bits of courage over the past few weeks, she'd actually read through the stack of articles her little sister had left for her before leaving. It had been easy to pick the best one...the large heart Ruby had drawn around the photograph serving as something of a clue. And since it was highly customizeable, Ruby would love it...which was important because she would definitely need help working with it.

Carefully walking the twenty-seven steps back to her room, she could have stopped there - and she almost did. She wanted to get back into her bed. Her balance, or lack thereof, was frustrating and tedious. It made something as simple as _walking_ something she had to focus attention towards.

But she managed to compel herself past the open doorway, mind repeating the same few lines over and over again in her head as motivation to move forward. A few steps later (thirty-three, actually), she'd made it through another doorway and into the garage.

It was much chillier out here than it was in the rest of the house, but, if she remembered correctly, that's exactly how she liked it. While half of the space was used for storage, with boxes stacked as high as the ceiling, the other half had been her personal gym, complete with her very favorite piece of equipment - the punching bag.

Thankfully, there was still a bag hanging on the hook. If there hadn't been...well, that would have ended this somewhat hopeless escapade right then and there.

But there _was_ a bag hanging there, so she walked over and stood directly in front of it, carefully analyzing her opponent before she dared try to lay hands upon it.

As evidenced by the absence of wear and tear, it was clearly a new bag. Thankfully, she'd actually been responsible and replaced the bag after the last session she'd run - something she would woefully admit didn't happen all too often.

Standing here in her pajamas, in front of what had once been her 'gym best friend,' she could physically feel how far back she'd been thrown. The mere _sight_ of the bag was daunting now, as if it had somehow grown larger in her absence.

With a deep breath, she positioned her feet and struck her ready pose...or as much of a ready pose as she had left. Muscles bunched together in preparation, her eyes picked out the spot in the middle of the bag where she would strike, but then…

But then she dropped her stance, turned away and walked back towards the house.

She'd always hit right hand first.

It wasn't until she'd reached for the door handle (with her left hand - hard to remember that sometimes), that she paused her retreat. Turning back towards the punching bag, she bit her lip and balled her fingers into a fist while considering her options.

But promises were meant to be kept.

Even when it was the most difficult thing to do.

With another sigh, she turned back - determined to at least _try_.

What was that quote Ruby would tell her repeatedly…

Every accomplishment starts with the decision to try.

Standing in front of the punching bag once more, she set her stance and prepared to strike with her left hand this time. Taking one breath in before letting it slowly out through her mouth, she threw her fist forward - somewhat gingerly - and connected it with the rough material of the punching bag.

 _Thump._

The bag swayed ever so slightly from her tepid punch. Hardly the violent swings she was able to create, but...it was a start.

Retracting her fist, which was lightly stinging from her lack of tape or gloves (items she hadn't used since she was just a toddler), she set herself in preparation for another punch.

 _Thump._

Again, the bag swayed and again, her fist stung from the contact.

But she'd been able to correct her balance - she'd been able to put a little more strength behind that one.

Setting herself up once more, she decided that she would try to establish a rhythm this time. So, after she swung her fist forward, landing it perfectly with another soft _thump_ , she watched the bag swing and waited for the right time to strike again.

 _Thump._

 _Thump._

 _Thump._

Timing the bag was easy. Years of training had taught her precise anticipation of how it would swing on the hook - a constant that hadn't changed even when so much else had.

Maybe she wasn't _great_ at this anymore...but at least she wasn't failing. For whatever reason, she'd imagined herself doing far more horridly - falling over a lot more often.

After maintaining a slow, steady rhythm for nearly a minute, she decided that maybe she was comfortable enough to throw in some small knee jabs as follow up. It would be more difficult since stacked moves needed much more balance in order to remain upright, but she could try at least once.

So, first steadying the bag with one arm, she set herself up once again.

Left punch, right knee jab would be easiest…

 _Thump thump_.

Cursing under her breath as her knee jab sent her moderately off balance, she straightened up and glared towards the punching bag.

Of course this was going to be difficult, but...it was nowhere near as difficult as she'd imagined it to be. 'Impossible' was actually the word her mind had attached to this, yet here she stood.

She wouldn't give up this quickly.

Gritting her teeth together, she set up to try again - pushing down the swell of frustration which was attempting to dominate her thoughts.

This stuff was _easy_. Elementary. Any beginning student could accomplish this with little effort - but here she was, struggling with it.

All for what?

For a girl, of course.

 _Thump...thump._

But it wasn't just any girl. It was Blake.

 _Thump..thump_.

Because she'd _promised_.

And she _didn't_ make promises just to _break_ them.

 _Thumpthump. Thumpthump._

Pausing, she stared at the bag as it rocked ever so slightly in front of her.

She'd corrected her balance on this particular set of moves, swinging her weight in the opposite direction in order to hold herself steady while her knee came up. This had allowed her to land two combinations in a row while hardly thinking about it.

Seeing as how she had once been able to land a hundred various combos in a row, it was nothing…

Nothing but a start.

Clenching her fist, which was now tingling in a very reassuring way, she narrowed her eyes and prepared to try again.

 _Thumpthump_.

And again.

 _Thumpthump._

And again.

 _Thumpthump, thumpthump._

Each successive hit sent a tremor through her body - the familiar pain serving as a wake up call to the semblance that had lain dormant for too long. Like awakening a sleeping dragon, she could feel its fire beginning to seep through her veins - breathing unwavering strength into her muscles.

The well-known feeling made her realize that these past few months, she'd been guilty...guilty of giving up before she'd even tried. But as she focused on mastering this one set of moves - one set amongst thousands - she understood that it was just another challenge.

A challenge like getting into Beacon had been...like trying to find her mother _was_ …

As her blows became a little more powerful, gained a little speed, she could feel something else coming back to her - joining her semblance as something lost that had now been found -

 _She was Yang Xiao Long._

 _She was the best hand-to-hand fighter at Beacon Academy._

With these thoughts, her jabs grew even harder, more forceful, as the bag began swinging a little more upon its hook. But it wasn't enough -

 _She was a member of Team RWBY, one of the best teams in their year._

 _She was partners with an ex-White Fang member with real life experience in the meaning of war, loss, and tragedy._

Her limbs had found a rhythm now, gaining speed and momentum as her blows grew more and more fluid and forceful.

 _She loved her family more than anything - even her mom, who had left for reasons still unknown._

 _She thrived on pain - using it to grow stronger, more powerful._

 _She was nearly unstoppable when-_

The sound of the punching bag exploding brought her crashing out of her thoughts, watching in surprise as sand sprayed away from her before the bag emptied itself in a steady stream onto the garage floor.

The result was unexpected, to say the least. But from the way her skin was burning, she could tell that her semblance had seeped into her blows - offering her more power than a normal being possessed. The exertion left her breathing labored, her muscles protesting from exhaustion, but she could feel it...the tiniest of smiles lifting the corners of her mouth at the success lying before her.

She might not _look_ the same...she might not _fight_ the same...she might not _feel_ the same.

But she was still Yang Xiao Long.

And she never broke her promises.

 _If you're scared, I'll protect you._

 _If you run, I'll find you._

It might take awhile...and she might feel like quitting more than once...but she would find her.

She would regain some version of her former self, she would re-teach herself how to fight, and she would find her partner.

She would bring Blake back.

"Hold on, Blake," she whispered quietly, balling her fingers into a fist - savoring the feeling of residual strength still lingering there. "Hold on, I'm going to find you."


End file.
